


Code Of Conduct

by Bannedd567



Series: Tales of Etheria [7]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, BFS And Their Shared Braincell, Banter, Bow Is A Good Boyfriend, Catra and Adora are Dorks, Consent, Dancing, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, F/F, Fluff, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, POV (Glimmer), POV Adora (She-Ra), POV Bow (She-Ra), POV Catra (She-Ra), Politics... kinda, Porn With Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 05, Praise Kink, Romance, Smut, Sneaking Around, The Plot is A Sorry Excuse, let Glimmer say fuck, okay I lied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bannedd567/pseuds/Bannedd567
Summary: “We may have a.... breach in the code of conduct.”Or,Catra and Adorareallyshould know how to pick a better time.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Tales of Etheria [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809997
Comments: 62
Kudos: 490





	Code Of Conduct

Bow sighs for the umpteenth time tonight, cheek propped on one closed fist as he looks over to the packed dance floor, tracking with his eyes every movement of the swaying couples, his attention reserved for one duo in particular. Catra and Adora have been dancing for the better part of the night, lost in each other’s presence. So obviously enamoured, he can almost see the fireworks exploding behind their locked gazes.

He'd almost feel like a distant third wheel, waiting for his girlfriend to come back from dazzling the room, if he weren’t so in love with their love. Like the master wingman he is. He can’t really help it, they are just so... cute. And they certainly know how to attract the attention, what with their graceful moves, important social statues, and remarkable clothing.

He’s particularly proud of Catra’s outfit. He’d helped her pick out a lovely dress, black and skin-tight, with only one sleeve covering her right arm up to her wrist. The gown opens up in a flowing skirt, with a slit that ends just shy of Catra’s upper thigh. She had absolutely refused to wear any type of shoes, of course, so they’d settled for wrapping her feet up to her calves with black bindings. He hadn’t been allowed to touch her hair, but the way it falls around her shoulders, mussed up with purpose, is almost unfairly fitting for her.

She had been hesitant to put that dress on at all, but Bow had taken a picture of her and sent it to Scorpia and Perfuma, asking for moral support without paying too much attention to Catra’s subsequent threats of murder. Their reaction had been explosive enough for Catra to go with it, albeit begrudgingly and groaning all the way to the ball room. She had refused to meet his eye until they entered the gardens, where her attention got caught by something else entirely.

It had been so cute, seeing her ears perk up and her face redden as soon as she took sight of Adora. And he couldn’t really blame her: Adora was positively glowing, her blonde hair tied in an intricate braid left to fall over her shoulder and a smile brilliant enough to rival She-Ra’s illuminating her face, but the kicker in all of this? She had let Glimmer help dressing up, and boy did his girlfriend have good taste.

Birds of a feather, he supposes.

Adora is decked in a pristine, form-fitting suit, white with golden accents, unsubtle reminders to the power she holds as saviour of the Universe. The jacket is left open to expose a black, cropped tube top, Bow’s favourite (and admittedly biased) bit, that shows a little stripe of her toned belly. Her white ankle boots make her even taller, almost as imposing as her legendary alter-ego.

It’s a stark contrast with how unabashedly giddy she looks as she spins Catra slowly under one arm, drawing her back to her chest with practiced ease. Adora tucks her head with a small grin as Catra pushes herself up on her toes to murmur something in her ear. Their temples bump gently, and Catra's tail flicks rapidly before it wraps around their legs, bringing them even closer together. Catra probably isn't even aware of it.

Bow coos, bottom lip jutting out at the pure tenderness of it all. So. Damn. _Cute._

Catra is still whispering, and when she comes back down, a fond smile gracing her face, Adora stumbles a bit on her next steps because she can’t take her eyes off her. Bow’s struggling to stifle a squeal at the sappiness unfolding in front of him when someone gently taps his shoulder from behind. He turns and immediately springs up from his seat, beaming at a familiar face.

“Scorpia, hey!” he jumps a little to wrap his arms around her neck. No matter what, she’ll always tower over him, but that’s alright. It just makes her hugs go from good to great. “How did the meeting go today?”

“Oh, it was amazing!” she gushes, spreading her arms wide. He catches one just in time to save a waiter from being hit in the head. Scorpia chuckles, sheepish. “Whoops, sorry! Anyway, the King was super stoked about setting up trading agreements between our kingdoms. Sure, he did most of the talking, and I mean a _loooot_ of talking, like, I think I started dozing off at some point, which... I probably shouldn’t say, now that I think about it.” She rubs her chin thoughtfully. Bow stifles a fond laugh. “Wished I could have seen you and Catra there, though.”

Bow shrugs, waving a hand. “Eh, the King’s not very keen on non-royals mingling in his affairs.” 

“I know, but Catra is Glimmer’s Royal Advisor! And you’re literally the Queen’s boyfriend! That’s gotta count, right?”

“Still not in the family, though,” Bow chuckles, bringing a hand behind his rapidly warming neck. He already came up with a solution about _that_ particular issue. If only he could find the guts to ask Micah for a pair of earrings... “But I’m glad it all went well. And I didn’t mind not attending, Catra and I got to visit the town. Hey, how about we all go out tomorrow, mhm? “Operation: Give the Rebellion a Tour”, what do you think?”

“Oh, oh, count me in!” Scorpia excitedly bumps a pincer against his closed fist. She looks behind him for a moment, her eyes shifting from side to side rapidly before she bends to give him another bone-crushing hug. He wheezes a bit, patting her back in return. “Anyway, I’ll go mingle some more, you know, gossip a bit, all that jazz. If you see Wildcat, tell her to save a dance for me, alright? See you, buddy!”

“Wait, what?” Bow frowns lightly, but Scorpia is already heading to the other side of the ballroom. “But... Catra is right-“

When he turns back towards the dance floor, half of the BFS is gone. Disappeared, just like that. Bow squints, trying to make out their familiar silhouettes among the mass of swaying bodies, but finds nothing.

“Weird,” he mutters, puzzled. “They were there a minute ag-“

Movement in the corner of his trained eyes immediately catches his attention. He slowly turns and can only watch, wary, as the tip of a tail disappears behind the closing doors of the ballroom. Bow goes still, blood running cold in his veins. He’s seen this happen before, unfortunately knows this pattern all too well.

It’s a dent in the plan. A complication.

Gimmer has talked to him about King Stratos, old monarch of the Kingdom of Eurus, for hours. To be more accurate, she complained. Like _a lot_.

He had dismissed Bow, Catra, and pretty much all the other members of the Alliance in favour of sucking up to Adora (who he insisted on calling She-Ra, literally all the time), Glimmer and Scorpia, the only Princesses he wasn’t affiliated with yet, as soon as they’d arrived at his palace. That had immediately given them a taste of his character, but they all knew they had to keep him happy and go along with his whims, least he decided to cut deals with the other Kingdoms.

Eurus, hidden among the peaks of the Eastern Mountains, has important ore resources, vital for the entire metal industry of the planet. After a long year, Etheria has at long last reached the last stages of its rebuilding and renovations, and Entrapta has found a way to produce a light, highly-resistant metal league from those minerals that, according to her, could increase the resistance of the buildings by 200% with an imperceptible shift in weight.

Scorpia, especially, could benefit from it, now that the Scorpion Kingdom is finally up and running and the leftover infrastructures of what once was the Fright Zone just need some final touches.

Bow had honestly thought that charming an old King couldn’t be so hard. They had She-Ra, Scorpia was a delight to be around as usual, Glimmer could count on Catra helping her behind the scenes as her Royal Advisor, and the Alliance had the charm turned up to the max.

They were ready.

But then they met the King. Had meals with him for an entire week. Listened as he droned, on and on, about his accomplishments, and his riches, and this particular ball he’d been adamant on hosting they all had to agree to attend.

And Bow can safely affirm, even though he’s spent very little time in his presence compared to his girlfriend or Adora, that he is a drag. The biggest stick in the mud in all of Etheria.

Stratos has a rule book. And a manual to read the rule book. His precious castle, a maze carved into the side of the mountain in a masterful display of engineering, begging to be explored, is off limits except for the rooms assigned to them, which are all separated and on different floors. 

No shenanigans, no funny business. Not even sleepovers, much to Bow’s horror, who hadn’t realised how deep a person's apathy could run. Truly a travesty.

They had dealt with it like champs though: Entrapta? Blowtorches confiscated. Wrong Hordak? No inappropriate winking. Sea Hawk? Kept far away from any type of flammable material. Mermista? Keeping Sea Hawk far away from any type of flammable material. Glimmer? Calming tea every evening and ranting until she felt better. Adora? Working out in her room to avoid going stir crazy. Catra? Meditation and cat naps. Frosta? Ice sculptures in her bathtub. Bow, Perfuma and Scorpia? Providing words of affirmation, meditation and breathing exercises, and great hugs, respectively.

Netossa and Spinnerella got spared at least, happy and away on a trip for their anniversary. And Swift Wind, too, off somewhere liberating stables, aided by a rather unwilling Melog who had, acording to Catra, promised to keep an eye on him. Bow is actually kind of envious.

For an entire week, they bit their tongues and played nice, and so far the party had been going great. Key word, “ _had”_.

He needs to find Glimmer, like _,_ right now.

He spots her near a table of hors-d’oeuvre, talking with Frosta, who gives a wave as soon as she sees him. His girlfriend turns, and her pretty face lights up immediately. “Hi, sweetie! What’s up?”

“Hi, girls...” Bow quickly glances back and forth from her to Frosta, who clearly is interested in whatever Bow is about to say. He gulps and plasters on his best smile. “Hey Frosta, uhm, do you mind giving me and Glimmer a minute. We need to talk about... stuff.”

Frosta raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “What kind of stuff?”

“Oh, uhhh...” Bow trails off, using all of his Tech-Master intelligence and wit to come up with the perfect excuse. “Boring... grown-up... stuff?” He fights the impulse to cower at how sceptical Frosta looks. It’s a staring contest between the two of them by now and he’s not good under this kind of pressure. “You know, taxes? The weather? Just- all those dreadful things.”

“Urgh, seriously! What is wrong with you people?!” Frosta groans and stomps her foot. Bow wills the image of her doing the same thing years back, during a war meeting, when she kept falling asleep and still refused to go to bed, to stray far from his brain. If he does, he’ll definitely try to ruffle her hair and it will take her all of two seconds to freeze him to a wall.

“I’m sixteen-“ _fifteen and three quarters_ , actually, but Bow perishes the thought. “- now. I’ve been paying taxes since I was eight. You can’t keep babying me!”

Glimmer butts in before Bow can dig himself deeper. “Hey, Frosta, it’s fine. I’m sure Bow just doesn’t want you to get bored to death. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Fine...” Frosta huffs at last, and grabs a plate filled with tiny sandwiches. “I’m gonna see if Entrapta and Wrong Hordak have smuggled some fun gadgets to play with. See you later.”

“Make smart choices! And keep away from Perfuma’s special juice!” Glimmer calls after her. She finally turns towards Bow, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What is it? You used the ‘grown up stuff’ code. Where’s the fire, and was it Sea Hawk or Mermista this time?”

“Nothing like that,” he appeases, and glances around before leaning down, lowering his voice to a whisper. “We may have a.... breach in the code of conduct.”

It’s like someone drained Glimmer’s face of all colour in the blink of an eye. She stares at Bow. Bow stares right back.

“No.”

Bow sighs, drops his head. “Yes.”

“No _._ ”

“ _Yes._ ”

“ _N-Bow_!” Glimmer’s gentle touch on his shoulder turns into a grip he can feel even through the layers of his clothes. “It can’t be! I-We haven’t even been here for, like, three hours yet! Nobody is nearly drunk enough to not notice _She-Ra_ _is missing,_ not when the King will want to make a big deal out of her being here!”

“And that has stopped them when, exactly?” he lands a delicate palm over her hand, failing to lessen the pressure of her fingers. “He-hey, it will be fine. They’ll just be gone for a while and, hopefully come back... looking presentable.” Glimmer’s fingers curl even more, and he yelps, voice cracking in a way it hasn’t done in at least three years. “I mean, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“Bow. Sweetheart.” Glimmer’s face has gone white. She’s gripping her glass so tightly it’s a miracle it hasn’t broken yet. “Tell me they didn’t leave from the doors on the left side. _Please_ , tell me they didn’t.”

“Uhh, I dunno. Why?” he asks, perplexed.

“Because the most secure room from there is the King’s office. His private, sacred office, that he never lets anyone access to without permission. The one he threw a dignitary out of a window from once, because they asked for a chair.”

He gulps, the sound echoing in his ears, and dares to look back at the doors he saw Catra and Adora leave through, the ones that lead to the west wing of the palace. The ones on the left of the ballroom.

“Oh,” he whispers, horrified, and its sound is deafening over the loud melody of the arch quartet. “Oh, no.”

* * *

The door bursts open so hard Catra is surprised it doesn’t break off the hinges altogether. If that doesn’t do the trick, Adora’s body slamming it shut maybe will. She does not know and, frankly, does not care. She’s a little busy doing something at the moment.

That something being: Adora. Okay, not yet, but they’re getting there in a matter of minutes, surely.

Catra can still hear, faintly, the music from the ballroom downstairs, and she hopes it will be enough to cover the embarrassingly loud moan she lets out when Adora grips her waist, brings her mouth to her neck and bites. Catra’s arms flail, but she makes the mistake of leaning against Adora for support and her palms splay on Adora’s stomach, Adora’s bare stomach, Adora’s bare, taut, amazing stomach-

She could go on, really, but she’s too preoccupied with the way her fingertips are tracing every inch of defined muscle, claws prickling the tender skin there just barely. Adora groans low in her ear and slants their lips together, licking into Catra’s mouth as soon as it opens, which is: right away.

They’re pressed so close together that she can already feel how hot Adora’s skin is getting and she doesn’t know if it was Glimmer’s idea to have Adora leave her suit jacket open, but if it is she’ll have to thank her. Adora’s hands sliding down and palming at her hips bring her back to what (who) she’s doing, and she has to laugh at the frustrated growl Adora lets out when she breaks the kiss.

“Unless you want me to tear you clothes apart,” Catra says, and she really doesn’t want to because, as far as she’s concerned, Adora shouldn’t wear anything else in her life ever. She watches Adora’s throat bob up and down, eyes widening at the mental image her words have no doubt caused, and smirks, hungry. “You need to slow down.”

Adora scoffs but doesn’t move her hands, if anything they get a bit closer to Catra’s rear. An amazing development. “You can’t expect me not to touch you when you’re wearing...” she trails off, pupils so dilated with want and _need_ that they dwarf the darkened blue of her irises. Catra may hate water, but she’d gladly drown in all that Adora is. “... that.”

Catra’s ears twitch wildly. Suits have always been her default go-to when it comes to dressing up, but Bow, backed up by Scorpia and Perfuma (something, something “ _change allows our souls to expand, here’s a flower_ ” something) had insisted she’d try to step out of her comfort zone. She hated it. It had been awkward at first, and she definitely wanted to disappear as soon as she put it on, but then they arrived at the ball and Adora, talking animatedly with Glimmer, had seen her.

Correction.

Adora had seen her and had _stared_. Her eyes had travelled, slowly, up and down, examining every inch of Catra’s figure with an intensity that left her quivering. It was like every cell in her body had become wired for higher frequencies, because as she and Bow made their way over to the two, she could have sworn she heard Adora’s breath hitch and her pulse quicken. 

“Bow has good taste in dresses,” she shrugs, shaking her head a little at the absurdity of it. With thirteen sons, Catra can only assume George and Lance wanted their kids to be prepared for anything. “Which should be surprising, but somehow isn’t.”

Adora hums absently, drags a palm up Catra’s body until she reaches her neck, wrapped snugly by a strip of fabric, and just. Stops there.

Her hand is large enough that her fingers can reach Catra’s nape, and she brushes her index over the spot where her skin is pale and lightly scarred, covered by the choker. Her grip is firm, but light and careful, and Catra could easily back away if she wanted to. She avoids moaning by the skin of her teeth, and it only gets more difficult when Adora gives her another slow, deliberate once over. Her tongue peeks out to run over swollen lips and Catra zeroes in on the movement.

“The dress is great, but you...” she says, pulls softly so that Catra all but sinks into her. She can smell the sweet fragrance of Adora’s hair, already falling out of that beautiful braid, and leans up, arching into her touch and draping her arms around Adora’s shoulders. Those nice boots of hers give her even more inches on Catra than usual, forcing her to strain on the tips of her toes. She doesn’t bother trying to understand why she likes it as much as she does.

Adora is still struggling to form words, the tendons in her neck bulging when she swallows. The fire that even the most subtle reminders of Adora’s strength never fail to ignite roars to life low in Catra’s stomach. Adora sighs, shaking her head with a helpless smile that, considering their situation, has no business being so cute. “I-I can’t even find the words...”

Catra grins, pushing her chest into Adora’s. “It’s fine.“ She licks a line up her jaw to reach her ear, nibbles and pulls on the lobe, and Adora _writhes_ against her. “After all,” she purrs, grabbing the lapels of that stupidly attractive jacket. The hand left near her ass, at long last, closes in on its target with a squeeze, and her tail wraps around its wrist. “You can always _show me._ ”

* * *

The floor still hasn’t consumed, which is surprising considering how intensely Glimmer is pacing back and forth. Bow has given up trying to stop her, because the first two times she has avoided his hands, and when he actually did catch her she’d simply teleported away. Some patrons are starting to stare, and he gives them a patented “nothing to see here, I swear we’re normal” smile. He doesn’t know if it’s that, or Glimmer’s continuous, hushed growling that shoos them away.

“Maybe they’re not-“

“Bow.” Glimmer says, deadpan, still pacing. “They totally are.”

Bow opens his mouth to protest, but his parents raised him to be honest with himself, so he stops. “Yeah,” he sighs, dragging a palm down his face. “Yeah, they totally are. I don’t suppose you could, just,” he wiggles his fingers, making a little _‘poof’_ noise. ”And bring them back here, right?”

 _That_ stops her. Glimmer stares at him, scandalised. “Bow!” she hisses, mouth agape. “I am _not_ barging in while they’re... look, I already did that one too many times on accident. And I’m not even sure where they could be anyway. I know I said the King’s private study, but the whole castle could work for them, I’m sure.”

Bow recalls finding Glimmer frozen in the corridors of Bright Moon more than once, with her face beet red and a haunted look in her eyes. Catra and Adora, apparently, _really_ disliked morning meetings. And afternoon meeting, and the evening ones. Just, meetings in general.

Bow scrunches his nose up, nursing the glass of water in his hand distractedly. He loves Adora and Catra, they’re basically family at this point, but that’s exactly the issue. If he tries to imagine one of his brothers like that... ugh, he can feel his cheeks warming already.

“What even is the deal with this place anyway?” he asks, trying to distract himself. “Why is everything so... sacred?”

“King Stratos is... an old school guy,” Glimmer says, grimacing at her own choice of words. He can tell she’d rather use Catra’s spot on description (in her words _“a prissy, stuck-up dick_ ”) but they are in public, after all. “He’s enamoured with the idea of She-Ra being this... this paragon of incorruptible pureness, too good to be true. Not to mention, he’s a prissy, stuck-up dick,“ Bow chokes on his drink. “Can you imagine if he caught on what Adora and Catra are doing somewhere in his precious, weirdly off limits castle?”

Bow is spared from having to give an answer by the sight of a familiar, though rather unwelcome, individual coming their way. He stares, and stares, but the figure doesn’t go away, so he’s pretty sure he’s not imagining it. “Uhhh, Glimmer? The King’s a sticker to proper royal behaviour, right?”

Glimmer stops pacing, confused. “Yeah, why?”

“A real square.” Bow’s eyes are going dry, but he cannot blink. He briefly wonders if he hasn’t mistaken the water for some kind of hard liquor. He’s not totally opposed to the idea. “An old fuddy-duddy.”

“Sweetheart,” Glimmer plants her hands in front of him, ducking into his line of vision with a concerned frown on her face. “What is it?”

“Well, he’s coming this way?” Bow manages at last, pointing a finger right over her shoulder. “And can’t seem to walk a straight line?”

Glimmer swivels around so fast it gives him whiplash. He hears her take a deep breath. The sheer dread in it is almost palpable. He knows what’s bound to follow because he shares the feeling from the very depths of his spirit.

“ _Fu—“_

“Queen Glimmer! And, uh... Ben!” Kings Stratos finally bounces up to them, a sway in his steps that would be almost comical if Bow weren’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown, all while struggling to keep his girlfriend from launching into a violent one. “How are you liking the party? Nothing like a good ol’ shindig to conclude an amazing week of meetings, am I right? Ohhh, what a splendid evening.”

The King’s brown feathers are ruffled all over, his light blue shirt falling halfway out of the crimson cummerbund surrounding his large gut. It’s stained here and there with dark splotches of wine, probably the same that’s spilling out of the glass filled to the brim he’s swinging around wildly. His talons drag across the marble pavement, and once he stops in front of them, wobbling, it’s laughably easy to see how red in the face he actually is.

“Where is She-Ra?” he slurs, taking a long sip. “I want her to be there when my alliance to the glorious Crab Kingdom will finally come to life!”

Bow has never, in his life, heard about such a place. When Stratos turns to bother a waiter passing by, he quickly nudges a still shocked Glimmer and leans closer to whisper in her ear. “What is he talking about?”

“I have no clue,” Glimmer hisses back, just as confused. “Yesterday he was ecstatic about partnering up with the Fright Zone, and now-hold on.” She catches Bow’s eye, her own wide in disbelief. “He’s not talking about Scorpia, right?”

The name captures Stratos’ attention.

“Why, yes, that lobster princess with the pincers. I really like her. She looks like she gives great hugs. I could really use one. “ He gulps down what remains of the wine in his glass, and proceeds to throw it to the waiter still at his side. They catch it without even looking. Something tells Bow this has happened before. “I am very lonely.”

Oh.

“Oh,” Bow gulps. At his side, Glimmer shuffles on her feet and makes a particular noise. It sounds almost as uncomfortable as Bow feels. “Okay...”

“Very, very lonely.”

His voice crack a bit in the end. He’s... not going to cry, is he? Is this really the same guy who spent half a day talking to Adora about his stamp collection.

“Uh-huh.”

The King is leaning so close now, Bow can smell the stench of alcohol in his breath. “Actually, you know what, I want you to be there too. You guys are my best friends.”

Oh, he’s definitely about to cry. Just like Glimmer is definitely thinking about how to grab the nearest sharp object from the buffet without being seen.

“Uhm, your Majesty? Are you sure now’s the best time to... sign trading deals?” Or do anything at all, actually, but Bow is not about to point that out. “Wouldn’t it be better to, I don’t know, have a glass of water? And go to sleep?”

“Nonsense, Bartholomew, nonsense! Let’s go already, those contracts won’t sign themse- are those mini-tarts?” the King’s expression morphs, childlike glee drying the tears in his eyes as he shoulders past Bow and Glimmer. He cracks his knuckles, bouncing on his feet like an amateurish boxer. It’s even more ridiculous than it sounds. “Alright, alright, let me just grab some of those bad boys and then we’ll go do some politics! Who’s excited?! I am!”

Bow has to wonder if it’s all an elaborate prank. Or maybe some kind of fever dream, induced from the boredom of the last few days. It could be the altitude that got to his head, making his blood pressure plummet.

“Keep an eye on him for a minute, will you? I... need to do something real quick.”

Glimmer’s voice startles him, deep into his head as he was. Bow looks down at her, a bit puzzled by the sudden pink glow surrounding her body, the telltale sign of an incoming teleportation. “Uh, sure, but where are you going?”

Glimmer heaves a deep breath through her nostrils, the smile on her face so wide and static it borders on feral. He’s pretty sure her eye is twitching. “To my room to scream into a pillow.”

Bow doesn’t have the heart to protest, really. He looks at the sparkles left in Glimmer’s wake, longing for the ability to do the same. He barely manages to avoid an egg tart to his face when the King turns to ask him if he wants some, crumbs dribbling and flying everywhere from his full mouth, and immediately goes back to eating without waiting for an answer.

“Yup,” Bow bites his lip, nodding slowly to himself. “Definitely wishing I was in Swift Wind’s hooves right about now.”

* * *

Okay.

So, maybe this isn’t the most sound idea Adora’s ever had, not by a long shot. Fooling around in a private office inside the castle of the unbearably uptight King whom you’ve spent the last week trying to negotiate with is risky and stupid and could easily get her and her friends kicked out in the blink of an eye. Or thrown down the mountain side, just to spice things up a bit.

None of this crosses her mind when she deposits Catra on the precious, inlaid desk and uses an arm to help her swipe whatever books, pens and scrolls were neatly piled on it down to the floor.

Catra’s hands land on the hem of her high-waisted pants and she pops them open with ease, pulling them down until they bunch around Adora’s hips. Her heels dig into Adora’s backside, pushing her further between her legs, and Adora can’t resist grabbing handfuls of slender thigh where Catra’s dress opens. It’s like Catra’s body has a gravity of its own, Adora can’t stop touching her and absolutely isn’t planning to.

She has barely been able to think straight since she first laid eyes on her earlier in the night. Catra had showed up next to Bow, giving her a shy grin in greeting and the customary _‘Hey, Adora’,_ and her brain had promptly decided to pack its bags and bail, leaving her head devoid of any thought that wasn’t a variant of “ _Catra_ ” or “ _dress_ ” or “ _hothothothothot_ ”, rinse and repeat.

She kind of wants to strangle Bow for attacking her out of nowhere like this. She’s also thinking of building him a statue, maybe two.

Catra’s hair falls in wild and messy curls, spilling like ink when she lays back on the desk. She runs her hands down Adora’s arms, pushing her jacket away, and then tugs and pulls until Adora’s climbing on the desk as well and leaning over her. Adora barely manages to get Catra’s arm out of her sleeve before a hand fists into her hair and her mouth is occupied.

She lavishes Catra’ collarbones with kisses, quickly making her way up when claws prickle he scalp with urgency. “Catra,” she says against her neck. She breathes a heavy sigh against Catra’s jaw that makes her fine fur bristle to attention. The second her face lines up with Catra’s she’s brought down in a bruising kiss, so heady she has to grip on the edge of the desk to maintain some poor semblance of control. The priceless wood creaks, alarmingly loud, and she’s pretty sure it’s about to break with how hard she’s gripping it.

“Catr- _shit_ ,” she tries again, but Catra’s teeth catch her bottom lip, pulling her back in, and then she sucks on it. It’s enough to make the heat pooled inside her belly turn into a raging wildfire. Adora’s hips jolt forward and Catra gasps, head thrown back and neck taut. Her leg hitches higher on Adora’s side and she grinds right back. Adora could watch her for hours.

“Catra,” for the third time, she calls her name. “ _Look at me_.”

This time, it sticks the landing

Catra’s ears move and she looks down, mouth half closed as she sucks in shallow breaths of air. Her slanted eyes are hooded, warm like liquid fire, and Adora can feel the burn on her skin. She takes in the flush colouring Catra’s cheeks, the countless freckles scattered across her face. Adora’s heart thuds painfully in her chest, and she falls in love all over again.

She presses more into her, holding Catra down with her hips in a slow, single grind. Catra’s pupils, already blown out, take up almost the entirety of her brilliantly coloured irises, pitch black pools Adora wishes to be swallowed in. Her slim legs part even more, like her mouth does when Adora lets go of the (probably ruined) wooden edge and grabs one of her wrists instead, pinning it beside her head. A firm grip, but loose enough Catra could easily break free if she wanted to.

She doesn’t, and looking at her like this, so open and eager, _need_ positively seeping out of every pore, makes something stir inside Adora’s chest. It’s almost primal, this instinct to claim Catra as hers, so intense it should be scary, but if she has learned something in the past twelve months and counting, is that Catra loves it when Adora lets herself want.

And it just so happens that Catra is all that Adora desires. Always has been, always will be.

“I love you so much,” she says, bringing her other hand behind Catra’s head. Her fingers immediately find her ear, scratching it lightly. Catra shivers, titling her head into her palm. Her hips struggle against Adora’s in a frantic search for friction. “I love you, Catra, what can I do?” Adora lowers her face to Catra’s jaw, in the spot where it meets her neck, and peppers the area with butterfly kisses that grow progressively sloppier. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”

“Fucking hell, Adora,” Catra groans, the sound bordering on a sob. She’s grasping at Adora’s shoulder almost painfully, but her claws are still retreated and that tiny detail is enough to send a surge of pure affection through Adora’s whole body. “Touch me.”

“Where?” she mumbles, her lips growing insistent and famished the more Catra’s pulse thrums against her mouth.

“ _Everywhere_.”

Adora obliges, running her free hand down Catra’s neck to her chest, pushing down her dress until it pools under her breasts. She explores as much as she can before dark fabric blocks her path. Adora curses, low in her throat. Taking Catra’s dress off would mean getting away from her, and Adora would rather die than do that, so she resolves to make do.

She slides her hand down Catra’s flat belly and makes quick work of the skirt, clumping it around her hips. Adora’s palm splays over Catra’s knee and she drags it up, cards her fingers through velvety fur until she finally reaches the highest part of Catra’s inner thigh. Her lips haven’t left that sweet spot on Catra’s jaw that always gets her going. “You’re so warm...” she whispers, amazed, her fingertips trailing steadily towards a familiar heat, hot and absolutely soaked. “Catra, you feel amazing...” 

“Fuck...” Catra whines, clinging to Adora’s arm. This time her claws come out a bit, pinching Adora’s skin, and it hurts just enough to spur her on. “Touch me, Adora, please, just touch me, please, pl-“

Adora plunges in. Catra’s pleas get stuck in her throat and her hand spasm until she’s grabbing Adora’s head, drawing her into a barely coherent kiss. Adora swallows each sigh and moan, speeds up and slows down in time with the rocking of Catra’s hips. She sucks on Catra’s lips, adding a finger as soon as she has the room for it, and _curls,_ and she’s rewarded with an enthusiastic thrust up into her hand.

She drives in hard and pulls out to her last knuckle, never stopping, her entire body rolling with the motion. She doesn’t know how much time passes, it feels like eons and mere seconds at once, but all of a sudden Catra’s body goes rigid, her hips jerking violently once, twice as a broken sigh of Adora’s name tumbles out of her lips, like it’s something precious and sacred. Then, the tension in her body dissipates, and Catra collapses in a satisfied, boneless heap underneath her.

Adora keeps quiet as she watches her, awed and humbled by how perfect Catra looks, sounds, just is. No matter how many times she’s seen her like this, it always feels like the first time. She can’t look away, doesn’t want to, her breath stolen from her lungs by the beauty laid before her eyes. Catra is little more than a sweaty, gasping mess, and she’s the single most gorgeous thing Adora has ever seen.

“Oh, wow,” she feels her lips curl into a smile that, she can tell, must be irritatingly smug. She lowers herself a bit, kissing every inch of Catra’s face to help her ride out the feeling. Catra laughs, still breathless, and Adora thinks she might just melt because of how joyous she sounds. “Already?”

“You’re such... an ass...” Catra pants, but she’s grinning, her fangs shining where they catch the pale light of the Moon. Her eyes are bright like gems, languid and happy because of Adora. Only for Adora. She slides one hand from the back of Adora’s neck to her cheek, trailing her fingertips down her jaw with impossible affection. “But yeah,” she says, quiet, a murmur that feels like a kiss on Adora’s flushed skin. “That was great.”

“I mean, I guess it was.” Adora brings her hand up to her face, licking her fingers clean with a pleased hu.m She smirks when she hears Catra’s sharp intake of breath, only to downright giggle at the look of wonder she’s graced with when she looks down at her girlfriend’s face. “And the view? Stellar, showstopping, ten out of ten, absolutely would recommend.”

Catra groans, long and dragged out, pinching Adora’s cheek and tugging until she snorts and twists away. The glint in her eyes is nothing short of playful though, and that’s the real reward as far as Adora is concerned. “Do you have to be so annoying?”

“It’s a condition, sorry,” Adora beams proudly, leaning down to nuzzle her nose against Catra’s. She shifts to press her lips to her pulse point, which helps kick-start a pleased purr from deep in her chest, and gets back on the floor with all the intention to help Catra down the desk. Legs tightening around her middle keep her from going too far.

Well, well, well. She meets Catra’s downright _predatory_ smile with an amused lift of her eyebrows.

“Don’t you dare,” Catra hisses, dangerously sweet, and sits up out of pure core strength, _gods have mercy on Adora’s soul_ , before she hooks a finger into Adora’s crooked top, drawing her closer. “I’m not even remotely done with you, yet.”

Adora grins widely and lets her head fall back when Catra dips her tongue in the hollow of her throat. Her mouth parched dry, the sensation of sharp teeth scraping her neck makes an embarrassing loud moan slip out without notice. Her heart is beating so fast it may as well decide to burst. In her humble opinion, there would be no better way to go than this.

“I was counting on it.”

* * *

“- seventy-one, seventy-two, seventy-three, --“

“King Stratos—“

“-- seventy-four, seventy-five, seventy-six,—“

“Y-your Majesty!” Glimmer teleports in a flash of light a few steps in front of him, her feet on different steps of the long, winding stairs leading to the first floor. He’s surprisingly agile, for being as heavy-set as he is. She wonders if it’s the booze, he’d been nowhere as nimble when he was giving them the tour on the first day. “Please just wait a minute!”

“We’ve waited enough,” he waves a hand in front of his face, the one still holding a bottle he’d snatched off the table when he’d finally decided he was done with the food, and sends drops of wine flying around. Glimmer wishes the ages spent waiting for him to finish stuffing his face had helped her figure out how to handle the situation, but nothing had come to mind. “A hundred-something steps more and we’ll be there!”

With stairs this high, Glimmer doesn’t know how exactly Catra and Adora managed to make their way up so quickly, but judging from the lingering trace of magic she can sense in the air, She-Ra was involved. That’s one way to use a legendary hero. Glimmer is willing to bet none of the previous bearers of the title used their powers for such unsavoury schemes, that’s why they were rewarded with cool dragons as steeds.

She shakes her head, focusing on the present and not on the way she's going to kill Adora once she finds her. They need to buy some time. Glimmer looks around, desperately trying to find a distraction, something, anything. She never thought she’d miss Sea Hawk’s pyromaniac tendencies , but this is how her life has changed her, apparently.

Heavy breaths signal that Bow has finally caught up with them. They’d lost him about twenty steps in, after Stratos had taken off into a sprint and Glimmer had started teleporting to keep up.

“W-we forgot Scorpia!” he huffs, hands on his knees, but a trembling thumb raised in her direction.

Glimmer swallows a sigh of relief and shoots a grateful smile at Bow. Her wonderful boyfriend who always has her back. The quiet to her storm. The restraint to her murder.

She looks back at the reddened face of the King, who’s staring into nothingness with a blank expression on his face. “The... Princess of the Scorpion Kingdom?” she offers.

Stratos blinks, says nothing.

“Uhm, the one that had a meeting with you this morning?” Bow pipes up, helpful as usual.

Nope, still nothing. She’s pretty sure the veins in her forehead are about to explode. “The lobster lady you want to hug!” 

“Ooooooohhhhh,” Stratos says, snapping his fingers when he finally makes the connection. It's still useless, because he waves his hand in front of his face and side-steps, walking past her without a look behind his shoulder. “Well, send someone to fetch her, then. Come along now, I was counting the steps and if I forget where I was I'll have to start over. Seventy-seven--”

If King Stratos hears the curse Glimmer absolutely does not yell, because she’s a Queen and she’s the epitome of politeness, he says nothing.

Bow’s yelp tells her she wasn’t that quiet, though.

* * *

There’s something special in the her name rolls off Adora’s tongue. Catra is pretty sure she’s heard it in every possible iteration at this point. There’s the sleepy, scratchy croak of their early mornings; the dumb, fond mumble when Catra whispers sweet things in her ear; the competitive, fierce shout when her pranks are successful (all the time, basically, not that she wants to brag) and Adora chases her all over the castle grounds, meeting her challenges head on with an exhilarated smile on her face. The list goes on and on, and Catra never wants to stop adding to it.

But also, she’s allowed to have favourites. For example, the breathless, reverent variety that she associates to their most intimate moments: Catra doubts it will _ever_ get old. Coincidentally, it’s the one that tumbles out of Adora’s lips when she’s shoved on the desk chair and, pinned there by Catra’s lips and a knee between her thighs, lets herself be kissed senseless. Catra takes her hands and places them on the armrests, squeezing them softly once she pulls away.

“Let’s see how long you last like this, okay?” she breathes, and laughs when Adora nods almost violently, somehow dorky and endearing and hot all at once. She’s so gorgeous like this, with the moonlight turning her hair a fall of liquid silver, eyes as deep as the night sky.

Her mouth is bitten and cherry red, like the blush spread over her milky cheeks and neck. There’s barely a smudge left of the sparkly, transparent gloss that had been on her lips at the beginning of the evening, wiped away by Catra’s tongue. Every inch of her is highlighted to perfection, each muscle and scar and little blemish bared just for Catra to see, touch, drink in.

Adora sits, like a statue, her attention completely devoted to watching as Catra leans in close, pressing her back against the seat without even needing to lay a finger on her. She’s always so ready now, so eager to be loved and cared for after a lifetime of suppressing her desires. Catra feels her anticipation, can _smell_ it on her. She is going to give Adora all that she wants.

She starts from Adora’s forehead. She places her lips there and simply begins to descend, kissing each eyelid, the bridge of her nose, both cheeks, and down her jaw before finally reaching her mouth. Adora responds hungrily, like she wants to consume her, but her hands remain obediently on the wooden arms of the chair. Catra pulls back an inch when she notices, smiling gleefully.

“You’re being so good for me,” she coos, and kisses her a couple more times as Adora keens at the praise. In a blur with how fast she moves, her hand comes up to cup Catra’s jaw, thumb tracing the length of her bottom lip as she pulls her closer. Catra fights the instinct to lean into the familiar touch and pushes the hand back down, anchors it to the armrest. She can’t help but snicker at the dismay written all over Adora’s face, even as she lets herself be kissed to submission. “ _What_ did I just say?”

“Catra, please...” Adora begs, breathless, but doesn’t struggle. If anything, her grip on the chair turns firmer, making the veins in her arms pop out, and that, combined with the absolutely smitten look in her eyes and the rasp in her voice, could fuel a lifetime of Catra’s fantasies.

“Patience,” she chides, softly, rubbing small circles on the back of Adora’s hand. They’re so close, she can count the pale freckles on her nose that appeared during their last visit to Plumeria, after three days spent working under the sun. She lowers her head until she’s a breath away from Adora’s lips. They part as Adora sighs, surrendering herself completely. Catra wants to love her until there's not a single inch left of her body that doesn't responds to her touch. “That’s my girl.” 

She continues her journey south. She mouths at Adora’s chin, sucks on her neck until she trembles, and skims over each collarbone. Catra gets rid of the top and makes quick work of her breasts, because from the way Adora cries out and heaves when she kisses and licks her skin there, she’s more than wound up already. She still goes back to the sternum to trace every single inch of the mark left by the Failsafe, more out of habit than anything else, and feels the erratic rhythm of Adora’s heart against her lips.

Once she gets to the belly, though, Catra can’t help indulging herself. She runs her tongue over every pebble of pronounced muscle, maps the planes of Adora’s stomach with her hands and fingers, and nibbles on jutting hipbones, turning Adora in nothing more than a squirming mess under her. Her skin is flushed, slick with perspiration, and Catra wonders if there’s a way to sear her tongue with the taste.

There’s a fresh breeze blowing in from an open window, but the air in the room is so hot that Catra can barely feel it on her bare chest. Maybe she’s the one that’s burning up. The sheer warmth of Adora’s body would be enough to shield her from any cold anyway.

On the spot just below Adora’s bellybutton, right over the crumpled hem of her pants, Catra hits the final nail in the coffin. She drags her tongue up, then gives the soft skin there a sloppy kiss before she bites down. Adora’s stomach caves, and she lets out a frustrated cry.

“Catra...” Adora whimpers. Catra rests her cheek on Adora’s hip and looks up, locks eyes with glassy and desperate ones. “Fuck, Catra, I’m actually going to die here...”

She nods, stroking the spot she just kissed with the tip of her claw. Eager hips jerk under her touch and she holds them down with a hand. “Patience,” she repeats, pushing her hair away from her eyes. She’d kill for a hair tie right now, but the one that was holding Adora’s hair was cut in half a couple of minutes ago. “Adora, I’ll give you everything you want.” The defined muscles in Adora’s arms flex as her white-knuckled grip on the armrests hardens so much it’s a miracle they haven’t snapped yet.

Catra snatches the belt loops of her pants, tugging them and Adora’s underwear down until the fabric pools around her feet. Adora’s answer is a relieved moan and she pushes on shaky legs to slide down a bit more on the plush seat. Catra lays her head on Adora’s strong thigh, feels the muscle there tense up like a bowstring. With gentle care, she nudges Adora’s legs further apart and settles between them, never once taking her eyes off Adora, who is staring at her, lips parted, like Catra hung all the stars in the sky just for her.

She’s a dream turned to flesh and blood, the pure love in her eyes palpable and washing over Catra like tides on a shore. Powerful but still pliant, completely trusting and laid before Catra to ravish. It’s almost unfair how beautiful she is.

“You know what, fuck it, you can move your hands now.”

Catra laughs at the strangled “ _oh_ , _thank you,”_ Adora manages to squeak out before she dives in with a desperation that, in hindsight, would be almost mortifying. The way Adora’s body reacts makes it more than worth it, though, because she finally feels her hand sink into her hair and pull, deeper and closer, _more more more_ , until all of her senses narrow down to Adora and nothing else. She’s all that Catra can feel, all that she _wants_ to feel.

Adora shakes, gasps, repeats Catra’s name like a broken litany. Her legs close around Catra’s head and her hips rock haphazardly, broken twitches that only spur Catra on. Her sensitive ears pick up the faint melody from the ballroom, a high and delicate harmony, and Adora’s voice swells in time with it as she showers her with praise, moans her name, tells her she loves her.

Catra has never heard sweeter music in her life.

* * *

“Ahhh, almost there. My study. My precious study. My precious, royal study, owned by me. Stratos, King of Eurus, Lord of the Eastern Peaks--“

“Look, I’m just saying. He’s half bird, he can fly. _Probably_.”

“Glimmer. No.”

“If he doesn’t I’ll just catch him and teleport back here! Easy.“

“You’re not pushing the King down a mountain-!”

“How about-“

“- or the stairs!”

“... well, not with that attitude.”

One of the three pairs of legs stumbles, heavy body slumped briefly against a wall before it resumes moving, dragging its taloned feet as the constant mumble begins where it left off.

“--Master of the Wind Tunnels, Watcher of the Sunrise, Big Bird, Founder of the “Woodpecker Knitting Society” --“

“How is he still holding himself up anyway?”

“I think he’s leeching on my misery. Like he probably did with the poor souls that had to build this stupid place. I lost count of the rooms five doors ago.”

“Impressive how he seems to know his way around, though.”

“I mean, it’s his castle after all.”

“Yeah, but it’s still so big. Entrapta has the same problems in Dryl, but she grew up there.”

“... wow, the way I’d kill to be there right now. Literally anywhere but here.”

“Same.”

“Which means that?”

“Nope, we’re not killing him.”

“ _Attempting to kill_ , you mean.”

“... You’re spending way too much time with Catra.”

“Not after I get my hands on those two, I won’t. They’re dead.”

“We _really_ should talk about this murderous streak of yo-how did he get there so fast?!”

“What?! Oh, come on!”

“—three times champion of “Early Bird Gets the Worm”, elected “Most Likely To End Up In Cage” in school, Friend of Queen Glimmer and Billy Bob. _That_ Stratos is here, ready to open the door!”

A brilliant flash of pink lights up the entire hallway for a moment, and then, again, when its caster reappears at the very end of the corridor. But it’s still too late.

“ _Wait-!_ ”

* * *

“What the- did you have to throw my top _that_ far? You nearly flung it out of the window!”

“Well excuse me, princess, I wasn’t exactly looking. And you’re one to talk, you almost ripped off my sleeve back there. Desperate to get your hands on the goods, weren’t you?”

The chair creaks a bit under the combined weight of its two occupants as they sag more into it, curled up around each other.

“Catra, you’re literally sitting on me. You haven’t even let me pull up my pants. I’m kind of starting to feel the breeze.”

“Want me to get down?”

“Hell no, you’re warm and comfy. And you’re purring. And I love when you nuzzle your nose in my neck like this, it’s so --“

“Shut up.”

“-- cute.”

“Ugh, I hate it”

“No, you don’t. Like I know you don’t really hate this dress as much as you claim.”

“Sure you’re not projecting? It _really_ got you going, huh?”

“Like you’re one to talk, you blacked out the moment you saw my abs.”

“Weren’t you going to die just because you wanted me to touch you so bad?”

“I’m sorry, what was that? Couldn’t hear you over the sound of you coming in, like, three seconds flat.”

“Remind me why I put up with this slander?”

“See my previous statement.”

“You talk a lot of shit for someone not wearing pants.”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Fuck you.”

They don’t know when they started grinning so hard their cheeks hurt, or when they got so close their foreheads ended up pressing together, or even when they started giggling like idiots, but none of it matters.

“That was so hot, by the way. I love you. So much.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re a brat.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

Empty.

Glimmer doesn’t exactly know how many years she’s going to live, what with her having half the genetic make-up of an immortal being and all, but however long that is, she’s pretty sure her lifespan has just gotten cut in half, only to be messily glued back together with spit and sheer luck.

The king’s study is _empty_. She breathes out, slowly, as Stratos keeps blabbering about whatever he was talking about and marches inside, followed closely by Bow, who shoots her a look that somehow manages to express relief, worry and confusion all at once. She silently shoos him in, taking a minute by herself in the quiet corridor, and lets herself breathe in deeply. 

Maybe they were too quick to judge. Sure, Adora and Catra have... quite the track record, so to speak, but they probably got tired of partying and just retired to their roo--

A door opens and closes in the quiet of the hallway. The giddy, barely muffled giggling of two harmonic voices that follows stops abruptly. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. From the ballroom downstairs, Glimmer can faintly hear a familiar cry for ‘ _ADVENTURE!_ ’, that, in normal circumstances, would cause the start of a massive headache. Right now it feels almost soothing, which is saying something.

“’Sup, Sparkles?”

Well, there goes that half lifespan, permanently this time.

Glimmer’s fingertips burn with suppressed magic and she narrows her eyes, slowly spinning on her heel.

Adora and Catra, her dearest friends and also the bane of her existence, are standing in the corridor, arms around each other. There are twin smiles lighting up both of their faces, and they are so blatantly basking in the bliss of the afterglow that Glimmer wishes Scorpia were there to sting her and put her out of her misery.

“You look like you’re about to have a stroke.” Catra arches an eyebrow, looking at her up and down. Her grip around Adora’s waist tightens, and she snuggles more into her side, tail flicking lazily behind them. “You okay there?”

“Peachy,” she spits out, and it sounds vitriolic to her own ears.

Their clothes look like they’ve been through the wringer, multiple times, and there’s a familiar trail of glittery chap-stick all over the side of Catra’s neck and jaw, matting her thin fur down. Glimmer recognises it easily, since she’d applied it on Adora’s lips herself earlier in the evening.

Glimmer grimaces at the _very_ visible red lines that peek out under Adora’s jacket, which isn’t even buttoned properly. She doesn’t dare looking too much at their necks, because she already knows there are going to be hickeys and, honestly, she just doesn’t have the patience to deal with that mental image right now.

“You guys look...“ Glimmer begins, and it takes her a moment to come up with a description. _‘Thoroughly fucked’_ is possibly the most accurate, but not the best in terms of property, especially when the owner of one of the rooms they’ve just _defiled_ is within earshot, drunk off his ass as he may be. “... happy.”

“Oh, we are,” Catra purrs, the pain in the ass that she is, making a show of running the tip of her tail under Adora’s jacket. Adora, ever the supporting girlfriend and also a pain in the ass, downright beams at her and gives Catra a squeeze, with a peck on her temple for good measure. “This party is _so_ much fun, Sparkles, you have no idea.”

Glimmer is going to lock her in prison as soon as they get back to Bright Moon. And this time she’s taking away all the cushions. And Melog. And Adora’s grappling hook. Adora who, by the way, is moving to the stables, no Swift Wind to liberate her. “I don’t think I want to, no,” she pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh. “You guys are aware that you were provided with your own rooms, right?”

“ _Duh._ They were too far though, and this castle is almost as bad as Entrapta’s,” Catra rolls her eyes, making her wish Netossa could somehow descend from the sky with a water gun. “Surely you didn’t want Bright Moon’s Royal Advisor--” Glimmer has never regretted giving someone a title so much in her life, ” --and She-Ra to be missing for hours on end,” Catra grins, way too pleased with herself. “We had to find somewhere closer.”

“And you picked the Royal Secretary’s office?!”

Adora runs a hand in her hair, seemingly deep in thought. The braid Glimmer had worked so hard on is gone, blonde strands falling almost as messily as Catra’s. “In the V _ice-Secretary’s Assistant’s_ office, actually. I wondered why they need these many offices in the first place, when I was studying the layout of the castle,” she grins then, big and dumb and... well, _Adora_ , with Catra at her side looking so disgustingly fond of her it’s enough to bring cavities, “but turns out they’re actually pretty useful!”

Wait. Back up. Adora came prepared. Adora knew her way around.

_Adora is an absolute fucking traitor._

“You. Studied the layout.” Glimmer grits out, because she has a heart. She’s not going to murder them into a hallway. That would be rude to the maids, she can’t make them clean up such a big mess. “ _Why?_ ”

“It was either staying in my room or meet up with King Lame 24/7. I got bored after a while.”

“The idea to sneak away was yours?” At this point, Glimmer is reaching a frequency that only bats are going to be able to hear. 

“Team effort,” Adora shrugs, and then, oh, _and then she has_ _the_ _nerve_ to look offended. “What? We weren’t going to do it in the King’s study Glimmer, c’mon, you can’t think we’re _that_ reckless.”

 _‘Bet,’_ Glimmer bites her tongue, deciding to focus on the task at hand like the mature person she is. “Catra, do you mind going to fetch Scorpia? King Stratos wanted to talk to her about possible commercial deals between their kingdoms now that the Fright Zone is almost up and running, and he forgot to tell her. No,” she cuts Catra off when she opens her mouth with a confused frown. “Don’t ask.”

Catra stays put for all of two seconds, then the single, biggest shit-eating smirk spreads on her face, pointed canine catching her bottom lip. An omen of trouble and increasing blood pressure.

“Sure thing.” She turns and trails her hand up Adora’s chest, curls it behind her neck. She goes up on her tiptoes, dragging Adora down until their foreheads are touching. “Be right back, mhm?”

Glimmer’s eyes roll all the way to the back of her head when Adora hums softly in return, lovesick gaze fixed on Catra. Her hand slides to the small of her back, pulling her flush against her side. “I’ll be here,” she drawls, thumb smoothing over Catra’s hip. It earns her a low, appreciative purr and a flick of Catra’s tail under her chin as she saunters away, pausing briefly to stick her tongue out at Glimmer.

Glimmer who, by this point, is on the verge of teleporting out of the sexually charged hallway, and just _so done_. With life in general, with Catra, with Adora, with Catra _and_ Adora, with Stratos’ horrific timing and clearly unhealthy drinking habits, with business deals and with Bo – no, not with Bow. Never with him, poor thing, he’s an angel and has the patience of a saint.

There’s a moment of silence as she and Adora are left alone. Glimmer takes a deep breath and brings her palm to her face. She’s pinched the bridge of her nose enough times tonight to leave a permanent mark.

“I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you’re both terrible and milking this for all it’s worth, or that you literally sneaked out in front of all of Etheria’s royalty to hide inside a private study and have a quick – _seriously_?!“

Glimmer is pretty sure that strangling the literal saviour of the Universe would send her straight to jail, but all in all she doesn’t think Adora would even notice, since she’s too busy staring at the way her girlfriend sashays down the hall. Adora’s pupils are blown out as her breath quickens, a telling blush covering the bridge of her nose.

“Adora. Adora, listen to me,” Glimmer grabs her by the shoulders and gives her a little shake with each sentence. Adora blinks owlishly down at her, clearly deep in the gutter that she calls a head already, and Glimmer curses the way hormones easily take over her natural ‘socially-awkward hero’ self. Normally, she’d be all for Adora learning how to be more laid back.

This is _not_ the type of laid she’s talking about.

“You just finished desecrating an office.” Glimmer speaks slowly, just to make sure Adora’s endorphin-addled brain has time to catch up. “There’s not a single cell in your body that isn’t screaming _‘I just had sex’_ at the top of its lungs. I don’t even want Frosta to come within ten feet from either of you because she could be scarred for life. So please...”

Glimmer clasps her hands in front of her in prayer. No matter how many people exist across the galaxies; Adora, bless her, will always be the one with the biggest heart out of all of them. There’s little else that Glimmer believes in as strongly, and she’s sure her plea will be heard.

“Can you keep it in your pants for the rest of the evening?” 

Adora looks down at her, composed despite the redness of her cheeks and – oh, Glimmer was right, those _are_ hickeys. “Of course,” she says, with an air of solemnity befitting of She-Ra herself. Glimmer smiles gratefully, letting out a breath. Adora nods, once, and gives her a couple of reassuring pats on the shoulder. Right before her eyes glaze over, _again_. “Say what now?”

She also has the dumbest ass. This is how Glimmer is going to remember her for the years to come: Adora, She-Ra of Etheria. Big of heart, dumb of ass.

“Did you even stop to think about what the King would have said if he’d found his childhood hero... like that?”

“Uhm, _‘lucky She-Ra’_?”

Glimmer is so over it. She snatches Adora’s hand and drags her towards the study. “Just. Be quiet and please, _please_ keep the bedroom eyes to a minimum. Alright?”

Adora smiles broadly. She pauses in front of the closed doors, straightening her (still wrongly buttoned) jacket and giving a salute. “Aye, captain,” she chirps, pushing the doors open and immediately going to greet the King.

Glimmer sighs, wearily following her. She feels drained, like her connection to the Moonstone became botched all of a sudden, and just wishes this random, sudden meeting were done already so she could dedicate herself to other things.

Like, going back to the ballroom. Dancing with her sweet boyfriend and resume talking with Frosta about whatever they’d been discussing before, surely something not nearly as stressful as the last hour of her life has been.

Whatever happens after this, however, she’ll definitely have to look for Perfuma.

She’s _really_ craving some of that special juice.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, catradora's pillowtalk is either passive-aggressive banter or whispered sweet nothings, no in-between. Yes, this was just an elaborate excuse to have Adora in a suit and Catra in a dress. Yes, I wrote this instead of sleeping. No, I don't know what day it is.
> 
> I am never doing something like this again, writing a character from scratch was exhausting. Stratos' name was taken from a character of the original He-Man series, while his kingdom's name is a reference to the Eastern wind of Greek Mythology. Catra's title of Royal Advisor comes from [Learning Curve](https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/24407572) by ForsythiaRising, aka a masterpiece. Also, her dress was inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/huangdanlan/status/1067394112142290945?s=20) wonderful piece of art by Huangdanlan. 
> 
> I could never be satisfied with this no matter how much I kept rewriting it, so fuck it, I hope whoever makes it to the end is at least a tiny bit amused. Please tell me what you thought because I really want to improve. I also have a [Tumblr](https://bannedd567.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat. 
> 
> For anyone keeping track of the wobbly continuity of this series, this takes place a little after the first part of _I'll Leave You Words (Underneath Your Door)_. 
> 
> The alternative title for this, in case anyone is wondering, was "Catra and Adora being THAT couple and giving Glimmer premature heart problems."


End file.
